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Zywa Jul 22
I want to study,

want to describe precisely --


the maths of the heart.
Autobiography "In den vreemde - Kronieken" ("In foreign parts - Chronicles", 2024, Frida Vogels), chapter 'Herbert' - May 28th, 1976, Bologna (about her choice of studies in 1948 in Amsterdam)

Collection "Trench Walking"
Ken Pepiton Jul 21
Only, Aitia tells us, she who claims
     credit in the annals f'good and ill,
        claim and blame, remaining both
           cause and effect.

Fectual efforting securing hope to evidence,
edification using squared and plumbed walls,
Luther's vision of the mighty fortress, Oral's
Christ 900 feet tall, not knocking
on the U.N. building, but holding
the financially afflicted
threatening to flop

City of Faith Medical Center, vision,
not apparition, Magi distinction, imagined
an image seen where only the imagination
can picture it, whatever it may become if done.

The Media mocked the vision, for being mental.
The Ecclesia mocked not the ancient seer's art.
The Faithful mocked the enemy of such prophecy.
---------------

------------
Uncle Toby spared a fly.
Ben wondered with one resurrected.
Who was the one in Wittgenstein's bottle?
-------------
**** the pesky rotters.
National Myths are sacred.
Allegiance before education, insist.

- peace planted from good seed
- **** to one is mustard to another

The economy of war,
the ecology of psyche maladaption
re developed fundamental certainty,

family safety, reliable local forces, home
feeling, full smile face felt at the recollection,

where the heart is, always, was the saying,
home, is there, at the very centermost pillar
holding all any actual hero stands under, bowed,

as Atlas actually holds up Uranus, the sphere
of heaven, from the inside, one must imagine,
from the old told tale
of how the Greeks agreed,
what to **** for, proudly
about the fickle pride
of contentious gods,

we become an aggregated immovable force.

Boom it's 1995, and Newt is teaching history.

Wall-builders Ministry, believing Ezra, yes,
who struck the deal with the old tale, yes,
we can serve as middle men, Nehemiah,
has a cadre under oath to the city, yes,
Jerusalem, since Melchizidek, we serve
the unspeakable name in which we trade
our hearts and minds for the hope of glory/

And all the money in the world, or else.

Dystopian Peace pass, hard climb,
milk and honey on the other side.

Id-entity
I'd imagin'd e'goes,
we'd say, or coulda said,
suppose we got a super ego

I am.
Being, we all agree, we
are, collectively imagined weforms,

whatsoever we agree to, and reality
confirms, ever where we look we see,
we have at some point past agreed, it's
this state, inner and outer, seening using
mortal impetus and wondering what if it

is perceived as proprioceptive, where is now
at the speed of thought we use to read

at a distance, spooky, single point per-
fection piercing all we ever infect
for war, inflaming the pierced
weform superior I, plural I,

we all respond, and I, and I,
we can take the land, ah,
we have imagined that

just and right, same rights used
to take away the buffalo, and make
the top soil blow away, just a hundred
years ago, many lifetimes, just now, not
yet so dim a product of proclaimed rights,

opposed, by possessors using first claims,
ignoring earlier infectious pride methodology,

to make believe, be sure your story
cannot be denied, be very sure,
your worth, on balance, trial
bit by bit, against the weight,
of a Morgan Silver Dollar,

sure, who could not throw such a dollar
across any river in Arizona, any little leaguer
who made the team, even some who didn't,

so what if George Washington did that, we
all could, but who would?

A silver dollar back then, really, who would
throw a dollar away?

-------------
Take my time, for yours,
use it to think some more

little lies, little foxes, cunning
creations of the collective mind,

loosed on mission, to spoil the vines.

Preventing sour grapes or sweet, suppose,
the nonsense can be seen as animation,
the symbolized reality seen so easy,

we live long after shadow puppet operas,
we live in days of Slime Rancher and D&D,
we live future lives, using literal magic, letters,

as I write, I know, I think cognate thoughts, same
as you, my unseen reader writing at tensest instant
as we converge in gaseous weform, mere words, once

upon just such a time as this, a holy sacred secret got
out and about in the Zeitgeist, via paper based media,
from Pergamum, the library there, where the evidence

was, ah, was, and if we knew now, what we could have
known then, as it ever is, we wistfully acknowledge,
ignorance serves to balance innocense, knowledge,
itself being likely that which your holy book forbids.

----------------------
Tiers,
terraced gardens,
told of to desert children,

first feel the letting, feel ef said,
effing effort letters feel form said,
as my momma read, to me, a story,

about a flat-bottom boat, on a river,
and I imagined that it must have been,

a good winter, for a river to float a boat,
with a good dozen men in it, but, as a boy, 'y
biggest river I ever saw was the Sandy in spring.

Tractors crossed it easy.

Well, dusty old memorabilia, tech too few kept,
100 meg Zip disc Bernoulli multi plane read writes

Holding the work of many days, months, years agone,

decay from inaction all the coherence gets unsticky

at the tensest instant, when the servers were down,
down near the base of the race to these weapons,
of mass construction, messaging face to face,
angelic, in spirit and function, letting letters
form words instantly transmitted and, if
we wish to, instantly translated, and

then, we slow, go into thick thought mode,
sticky wadded up threads of all we thought,

ought to have
known, having been
shown, this is the way…
'e, eh
says the spider to the fly, oh,
no,
Ich bin Wittgenstein, kommen Sie.
My duty to the muse today. No pay, just a pleasant way to roll with happy Sisyphus on the down side.
Hadrian Veska Jul 17
What is there to know but what is unknown
To feel it so near yet never grasp it
Ponder at what lays ever beyond
The horizons of all understanding

To be at peace in grasping
All knowledge will never be attained
Yet we will search it out nonetheless
And our species will spend all its eons
Be they long or short

That our wonder may never cease
Part of reductionist philosophy
Is accelerationism.
Where One acts in haste,
Rather than 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 speed:
This is the antithesis of
Hermes.

This is the antithesis of
Toth.
Don't get caught in the Rain,
Only to be struck by Lightning
And curse the Thunder.

For Oceans are beckoning,
Electric is waving,
Thunder is speaking;

The point is,
Pick up the torch.

For when fires are raging & spreading
You either lead, leave, or get burned.
A Tiny Explanation Of The Previous Work Posted:

In the "mysteries" of "Dionysus,"
Or the philosophy of Apollo,
This means stand when you imbibe libations.
When/if you do drugs.

To better know how inebriated or intoxicated
You are or have become.
To properly imbibe them rather than be binded by them or blinded by them.

Similarly, such libations can cause sickness
Without moderation. Such things zap us
Of our relaxation, even stealing our tongue(s).

Hunting what the cause is -
Searching for the light in silence or by abstaining,
Can rebirth the (good) time
Of truth wrapped in/up.

We must ward off sickness;
About our troubles we must talk.



What made them philosophies to the Order(s),
Was the constants between cultures.
You could rattle off names of "Titans" & "Gods"
To easily communicate
Whatever was happening,
Readily understood by those initiated.

Very useful if you spoke different languages,
If it was not safe/was dangerous to talk in open/openness.

And what made them "mysteries"
Was that outside observers
Were left clueless
Unless they themselves had found the light/sawed through the darkness
Or hunted for the truth(s) of the matter(s).



It was a language of Philosophy,
The Philosophy of Language.
So many puddles;
There are the puddles of your planet,
There is an atmosphere of elements in vapors which puddle,
There is a heliosphere which puddles from forces like gravity -
So many degrees,
It staggers the mind to think.

Like oceans which ripple.
Like Electric arcing.
Like blades of grass growing.
Kronos to Atys,
Time to Humans;
Never reaching to grasp their true Nature,
Compassion & Patience.

Only when the waters recede
Is ever there patience,
Only when they flood
Is there ever compassion.

For you compromise all balance
And so you comprise limited liberation.

For, as you all 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 to be,
You are unworthy.
There is some in-between
Which I do not post 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

But I digress.

You all who are mortal,
You who reincarnate.

You have had your eclipses;
You, the reincarnations.
Wandering the dunes of Time;
Life, as new desert(s) valleys,
Which forgets (,) before itself.

This is bad health,
Good is remembrance.

Erase not the hills before you
If you seek the freedom & liberation
That awaits you on the Mountain.

Will you welcome & accept new Sun?

Do you need a sunset?
You who cry & ache to go on,
But refuse compassion & patience.
I who can zap & short-circuit,
I who can bring forth the meteors & comets,
I who can churn the molten oceans of Electric.

Who can call upon the Ripples, the Radiations, the Crystallizations.

I who have kept you at start; now,
At is.
Father; I have slipped her,
I who was the only one
Whom her body could ever let her guard down around.
Your wife, my mother, has died.

I know you are in there,
Though your mind is yet blind.
I know you see & hear,
Watch & listen.

Forgive me.

For I know you are both of the divine.
It was her decision
That she was yet unable to make,
Having lived eons in instinct's subjugation.

I who am your son,
I shall shepherd you to liberation -
I shall break your chains.

I who am
Evolution.
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